


La Mantra Mori

by KissTheGoGoat



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Church Sex, Clergy, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Priest Kink, Telepathy, Vampires, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissTheGoGoat/pseuds/KissTheGoGoat
Summary: Transported to an unknown world through a series of dreams, Eleanor glimpses a secret life that she never knew had existed. The dreams lead her to the doorstep of St. Aroilem church, and straight into the arms of a hot-headed Cardinal with a few secrets of his own.





	1. Pallor mortis

      Lying in bed listening to the rain splattering against my bedroom window was one of the most calming things in the world, but somehow, I still felt like there was something missing. I sat up and looked around the room, my eyes stopping on my record player. "Ah yes, that's what's missing." I said to myself as I got up out of bed and crossed the room.

      I ran my hands over my modest vinyl collection, stopping on Infestissumam. I knew at once that this was the one. Ghost was my all-time favorite band, there was nothing that could both calm me, and make me want to dance my ass off at the same time, like their music could.

      I slipped the record out of its sleeve, and placed it on the platter, adjusting some speed settings before pressing play. I dropped the needle on track one and settled back into bed. I lost myself in the title track, it was my favorite opening track of all time and it sounded incredible on vinyl. Once I got into collecting records, there was no turning back for me. I still had CDs and digital music on my phone, but vinyl was number one in my heart.

      I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and opened Twitter. Ghost was playing in Stockholm that very moment and the entire fandom was losing their shit wondering if something special was going to happen, as was the theme whenever they played their hometown. I scrolled through my timeline, chuckling as I retweeted my favorite mutuals. I got so immersed in the app that I didn't even realize the record was nearly over. La Mantra Mori was just beginning and I was already heavy lidded. One second, I was dropping a like on someone's tweet and the next, I was dropping my head on my pillow.

      "You share not the blood of our our ours, thus we focus on your death."

      I woke up with a start, wondering why the light in my room was so dim. I glanced toward my record player but it wasn't there. In fact, nothing I owned was there. This wasn't my room. I bolted up from the bed I was on, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm. I became aware I was in an empty room with nothing but a cot in the middle of the floor. There were a few sconces set in the walls at varying heights, black candles burning bright within them.

      "Where the fuck--"

      "We focus on your death." It was that damn song again. But I had no idea where it was coming from or why it sounded so real. I decided that I was dreaming and might as well explore a bit before I woke up for real. I found an iron door with a huge Grucifix engraved in it. I reached up and laid my fingertips on it, then recoiled in horror. I didn't know how it was possible, but it felt like the Grucifix was on fire.

      I started getting a really weird feeling as I pushed open the door, the hairs on my neck standing on end. I stood still in the hall for a moment, jumping as the door slammed shut behind me. It was as if someone had pushed it closed. I waited and listened for any clue that could help me find my way out of this weird place. That was when I heard it again, louder this time.

      "You share not the blood of our our ours…"

      It was coming from somewhere to my right, so that was the direction I decided to head in. I couldn't explain it, but somehow, I felt inexplicably drawn to that fucking song. I kept walking, picking up speed when I heard them singing again. I glanced to my left and saw a pale girl in a thin lace slip walking beside me. It wasn't until I screamed out in terror that I realized I had been looking at my own reflection. Large, antique looking mirrors lined the hallway, reflecting the fear in my eyes. I felt like a fool but in my defense, I sure as hell did not fall asleep in a black lace slip. This was a dream though. Or so I thought.

      "Thus, we focus on your death." At this point it became clear that it was not a recording, but actual voices repeating the deathly mantra. I paused just outside a closed door, pressing my ear to the wood.

      "We focus on your death."

      I jumped back, heart pounding once more. I had a decision to make, either keep walking and possibly wander this place for ever, or I could brave it out and see who was on the other side of the door. My curiosity won out, so I slowly grasped the doorknob and twisted it until the door clicked open. I kept my eyes on the floor, terrified of what I was going to find.

      "You share not the blood of --" I finally forced myself to look and the voices stopped singing abruptly. Several of the Nameless Ghouls stood in a circle, their heads bent at an odd angle. I followed their gazes and saw that there was a large pentagram drawn on the floor. Black candles burned all around the circle, casting eerie shadows on the walls around us. I was about to turn and walk away from this strange display when I felt someone shove me into the circle. I gasped in surprise as I fell onto the chalk pentagram.

      "We focus on your death. We focus on your death. We focus on your death." They all started chanting again, this time actually speaking rather than singing the song. I tried to crawl my way out of the circle but something was holding me in place. The chanting grew louder, then a new voice joined in.

      "You share not the blood of ours, Eleanor, thus we focus on your death." My head jerked up when I heard my name leave Papa's lips. He had entered the circle and knelt down before me, his robes pooling on the floor. He reached a hand out toward me, slicing my throat open with his claws. I tried to scream but nothing would come out. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks as he leaned in close, pressing his lips to the fresh laceration.

      "You share not the blood of ours." The Ghouls chanted in unison, their voices growing louder and louder as Papa began to drink my life away. Their heavily cloaked forms began to blur and the room spun as the dizziness overtook me. I felt myself collapse into Papa's arms and he continued to drink.

      The room went black and silent then; I figured that I had died or maybe I was finally waking up from this strange dream. But of course not. I opened my eyes when I heard the chanting resume and I was still in the middle of the circle, still an unwilling pawn in this bizarre ritual. I looked at Papa, caught in his mismatched gaze. He turned over his arm and pulled back the sleeve of his chasuble, exposing a pale wrist. He then sliced his own flesh open with a claw and held his wrist up to my lips.

      "What the fuck." I said weakly, staring at the blood pulsing out of the laceration in his skin. I suddenly realized I was thirsty. Very thirsty. And just as suddenly, Papa's blood seemed liked the only thing that would quench that thirst. I lunged at him, pressing my mouth to the slit in his wrist. Warm blood flowed over my lips and into my mouth, filling me with what could be equated with pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

      "Drink up, dear Eleanor. Tonight, you finally share the blood of ours. Ours, ours, ours..."

      My eyes shot open and I was back in my own bed again, much to my relief. I suddenly became aware that my record was skipping, somehow stuck on the word "ours". I jumped out of bed, went over to the turntable, and yanked up the needle rougher than I should have. The music stopped and I could just hear the whirring of the vinyl as it spun. I pressed stop, picked up the record, and slid it back into its sleeve. I went back to my bed and sat at the edge, the strange events from the dream still fresh in my mind. I knew that I needed to get this dream written down, but I wasn’t sure that I was ready to share it with the world yet. It almost felt...too personal, in a way. Almost as if it was meant for my eyes and ears only. I pulled out my phone and quickly typed up the dream before it could vanish from my memory forever.

      I stood from the bed again, heading down the hall toward my bathroom. I did my business and went to the sink to wash my hands as usual, stopping dead in my tracks when I caught a glimpse of my reflection. There was a fresh scar on my throat, in the exact same place Papa had sliced me open in the dream. I lifted a shaky hand to the scar, fingers brushing the swollen flesh.

      In that same instant, my record started playing La Mantra Mori again. I took off running toward my bedroom, flying through the doorway and over to the record player. There was nothing there, Infestissumam was still on the shelf I’d put it back on earlier. A hand dropped to my shoulder and I whirled around, finding myself face to face with a Nameless Ghoul. He held a white Bauta mask in his hand, much like his own, which he then held out toward me. Without even realizing what I was doing, I took the mask from his hand and pulled it over my face. For a while we just stood there, staring at each other in the deafening silence. He then gestured toward the hallway and I felt myself being drawn to that direction, like I was a puppet on a string. I walked back into my bathroom, pausing at the mirror again. I was dressed in an Infestissumam era cloak, crisp and white like a freshly fallen snow. I felt whole somehow. Complete.

      Then, as quick as it all had happened, I was back in my bed again. Back in my Ghost tee and jeans, no cloak and no mask. I pinched my arm hard, wincing in pain. Yep, I was definitely awake this time. I thought of the scar on my throat and reached up to touch it, relieved to find it was nonexistent. I grabbed my phone and saw that my notes app was open, already filled with paragraphs detailing my dreams. Goosebumps creeped up the back of my neck and across my arms, this was impossible. Unless I somehow sleep typed it all up.

      I shook off my unease and got out of bed, crossing the room to my desk and logging onto my MacBook. I opened up a google search, typing in some of the architectural details I remembered from my dream. I don't know what I was expecting, it was just a very weird dream, no place like that could've really existed. Nevertheless, I scrolled through image results, hoping something would pop out at me. I found myself wanting it to be real, even though the dreams left me scared and confused.

      Then I saw it, a closeup shot of an ornate sconce on a dusty brick wall. I quickly clicked on it, enlarged it and gasped. It couldn't be a coincidence that this was the exact same wall sconce from my dream. I hurried to the website link and clicked it, waiting with bated breath as the page loaded up. The church looked very old, but it was beautiful at the same time. I clicked around different parts of the site, jumping around and not really paying it much attention. I came across some rare photos of Ghost, and I brushed the whole thing off as an elaborate fansite based around the band's lore, but I was confused as to why I dreamed about that exact church.

      I searched through the page for an address and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just outside Linköping. I had been staying in an apartment in the city while I attended university, so it would be a relatively short drive to get there. I glanced down at my watch, it was fast approaching midnight so the trip would have to wait. I needed to take a step back from this weird Ghost church stuff and try to get a decent night's sleep anyway. I closed Safari, shut down the laptop, and crawled back into bed fully clothed. I silently begged my brain to let me sleep without having weird dreams again, laid my head back and finally slept.


	2. Requiescat in pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are running at an all-time high at St. Aroilem Cathedral as the Cardinal grows tired of living in the shadow of his brothers. How far is he willing to go to earn his rightful spot in the Papacy?

      “Goddamnit!” The Cardinal growled, kicking his chamber door shut behind him. He began to pace back and forth, uttering a string of profanities under his breath. “Why do they _always_ get everything? Every last goddamn thing. I work my ass off around here and they get all the recognition.”

      His eyes landed on a painting of Emeritus III and he tore it off the wall with little effort, slashing the canvas into ribbons with his claws. He tossed the remnants into the fire, a smile spreading across his face as he watched his youngest brother go up in flames. Oh how he wished he could kill them all and rule in their place, then maybe he’d finally get the recognition he deserved.

      He started pacing again, his sinister plan already beginning to unfold. _“Aether? I need you and Fire to do something for me.”_ He reached out with his mind, hoping Aether had been listening.

_“Sure, Copia. What is it?”_

_“Meet me at the mausoleum in 5 minutes, it isn’t safe to discuss the details here.”_

      Copia severed their connection and left his chambers, heading straight for the cloister that joined the monastery to the cathedral. He’d nearly made it when the Elder Emeritus appeared in front of him.

      “Your Dark Eminence.” Nihil bowed his head.

      “Nihil.” Copia smiled, raising his hand in small, awkward wave as Nihil continued past him, oxygen tank in tow. He let out the breath he’d been holding and continued toward the church. He slipped inside the building, heading straight for the sacristy. Once there, he threw open the doors to the wardrobe where vestments were kept. He moved them aside and pressed a hidden button in the back of the closet. The whole back panel opened, revealing a two person elevator. There were a few different ways to get the mausoleum, but few knew of this lift and he needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

      It was a long way down, but it gave him plenty of time to think about his plan, to perfect every last detail, before sharing it with Aether and Fire. He hoped they would be open to helping him out, but he certainly wasn’t above getting the job done by himself if he had to. He grinned to himself, running his tongue across sharp teeth. The lift lurched to a stop and the Cardinal stepped off, hurrying through the crimson gate in front of him and down the tiled floor to the agreed meeting place.

      Fire leaned against the marble columbarium, his foot resting unceremoniously on one of the cremation niches behind him. Aether stood tall beside him, his arms crossed over his large chest. “Copia.” He said once the Cardinal appeared before him.

      “Aether. Fire.” He paused. “I need you to help me kill my brothers.” He said simply. The corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin just thinking about it again.

      “So you want us to assassinate them?” Fire asked incredulously, rubbing one of his horns out of nervousness. “How...I mean why?"

      “I’ve been working so hard to reach Pope status and they’re ruining everything. I’m young, vital, striving to sway the masses with our song. Yet those musty old fucks get all the recognition.” Copia’s leather glove squeaked as his hand clenched into a fist.

      “And our Ghoul brethren have been endlessly compared to former members of the Clergy. That shit is getting real fucking old.” Aether growled. “We’re in, just tell us what to do.”

      “They have a Papal meeting tonight, which you know means talking shit about me while they play that silly card game with the numbers, as per usual.” He sighed and pulled something from the inside pocket of his cassock. “Take these, inject the serum into their necks. The poison works slowly but it will kill them while leaving no trace.”

      “Wait, why are there only two?” Fire raised an eyebrow, wondering where this nefarious plan could possibly go.

      “Leave the Third to me. I want to destroy him with my bare hands.” The Cardinal strolled away, leaving the Ghouls alone to ponder his words. He took the lift up to the church and headed back to his chamber where he prepared to set his part of the plan into motion.

      A few hours later Copia stood outside the Third’s Papal suite, hesitating for only a moment before knocking on the door.

      “Who is it?” Came a deep voice from inside the room.

      “It’s Cardinal Copia, Your Unholiness.” He replied, rolling his eyes at addressing his brother in such a formal way.

      “You may enter.”

      He stepped just inside the door, eyes instantly adjusting to the Emeritus' dark room. Heavy black drapes covered the windows, casting shadows across the large chestnut desk he sat behind. Katatonia’s Departer played softly from his record player while he worked.

      “Papa, there’s something I need to show you out behind the church. Please come with me, it’s urgent.”

      Papa stared at him for a moment before standing up from his desk. “Alright, but this better be good Copia. I won’t have you wasting my time.” His robes swished as he brushed past the Cardinal and headed out into the hallway. Copia closed the door behind them and lead Papa to the cloister.

      The skies had turned a deep, dark grey and heavy rain clouds moved in to shield the sun. It was almost as if the weather were predicting what was about to happen. Copia stopped once they made it a good distance from the church and turned to face his brother. He wanted to tear his pretty face off right then and there, to slit his throat and destroy him beyond recognition. But he had keep his cool, he had to drag it out so that he could enjoy every last minute of his brother’s life leaving his body.

      “What hell is this, Copia?” Papa asked, spreading his arms and gesturing around in confusion. “I told you that you weren’t going to waste my time”

      “Time? Who gives a flying fuck about time?” Copia growled, stepping closer to the Third. “I have all the time in the world to make you suffer, Emeritus.”

      “What have I ever done to you, Copia? You’re just jealous that I always got all the ladies, aren’t you?” He dropped his hands to his sides and thrust his hips with a sneer.

      Copia started to laugh, softly at first and then louder and louder. “Have you _seen_ these thighs?” He slapped his leg and in the blink of an eye he was in his brother’s face, clutching his throat in his claws. “It’s not about cocks and thighs, buddy. It’s about you and your geriatric brothers living in the limelight all the fucking time.”

      “What are you talking about? Sister Imperator dotes on you like you’re her son. The fans have finally begun to embrace you. What more could you want?” He stuttered as Copia tightened his grip on his throat, claws digging into his flesh.

      “It’s not enough!!! It’s never going to be enough.” The Cardinal growled, shoving Papa to the ground and turning away. “You always get the awards, the accolades, all the attention from Nihil. No matter what I do, all I hear is ‘He’s not ready yet, Sister.’ ‘He needs more time, Sister.’ I’m so fucking sick of it.” By the time he’d turned around, Papa’s throat wounds had healed and he was back to his feet.

      “Well maybe if you hadn’t turned your back on the devil and started singing about filthy fucking rodents for Satan’s sake, you’d get some recognition.” He spat. “Grow up, Copia. Maybe then people will start taking you seriously.”

      “You son of a bitch.” Copia was in front of his brother in an instant, landing a solid blow to his jaw before they both fell to the ground. He started pummeling his nose; he heard the crack, felt the blood on his fingers, but he still kept going. He only paused to catch his breath, but Papa took advantage, throwing Copia off him.

      “You may be young and fast, but I’m older and stronger. This isn’t going to end well for you, Copia.” He wiped the blood from his nose, his white eye flashing with anger. He knelt in front of Copia and punched him in the nose, shattering it instantly.

      “That’s all you’ve got?” Copia launched himself at his brother, clawing his throat completely open. He shoved his face into the wound, ripping into his jugular with his fangs. “I fucking _loathe_ you. I will stop at nothing to make sure you’re gone for good.”

      “You don’t have to do this, you know. We...we can help you become Pope. I don’t want us to fight like this, I really don’t.” He words came out gurgled as blood poured from his mouth and throat. He tried to grab the Cardinal around the collar but ended up grasping at air.

      “Yes...I...do.” Copia leaned into his face, his weight pinning him to the ground. He waited long enough for his throat to heal before tearing it back open again, punching him in the jaw for good measure. Papa tried to fight back and dragged his pointed claws down the side of Copia’s face, wincing as blood sprayed all over his vestments. The Cardinal leaned backward just in time to avoid his eyeball being torn out.

      “You will never earn your spot in the Papacy. You will amount to nothing, Copia. You’re just a whiny little mama’s bastard. Oops, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that I know about you being Sister Imperator’s son. She came to me one night and spilled her secrets over a bottle of wine. Because she trusts ME, Copia. She couldn’t even tell her own goddamned son the truth.” He laughed, “So what do you think of that…..brother of mine?”

      Fuck fuck fuck. He wasn’t counting on Papa knowing they were actually brothers. He was saving the big reveal for the last moments before his death, and having the surprise ruined only angered him more. “You’re an egotistical piece of shit, that’s what I think. If only you knew just how long I’ve known that so-called secret. Joke’s on you, Emeritus. I hope you’ve told your brothers you love them, after all they should be corpses right about now.” He glanced down at his claws, eyeing Papa out of the corner of his eye.

      “You didn’t. You goddamn bastard!!” His eyes flashed with pure bloodlust as he took off running toward Copia. The Cardinal swiftly stepped to the side and bent over laughing.

      Papa whirled around to come back at him, but Copia was already right behind him. He leaned down close to his ear. “Oh, but I did.” He tapped the side of his head, still laughing as the skies finally opened and a steady rain began to fall around them. “And now it’s your turn. Goodbye…brother.”

      Papa’s eyes widened as Copia shoved a claw into his throat, far deeper than the previous two times. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, Copia had sliced clean through his neck. His head fell to the ground with a sickening thunk, the rest of his body collapsing beside it. The Cardinal stared down at his decapitated head, watching as drops of his own blood cascaded down to mix in with the growing pool of his brother’s.

      Copia ran his fingers through his rain drenched hair, a grin spreading across his bloody face. He turned his back on his brother’s body and took off running toward the monastery, forging headfirst through the driving rain. He started to feel a peculiar nudging in his mind as he slowed to a casual jog across the cloister; Aether was sending him a series of telepathic images. The remaining Emeritus brothers were dead. Copia was extremely pleased. Now all they had to do was convince the rest of the Clergy that they weren’t involved, then he could finally make his way into the Papacy. With no surviving relatives to reign, it would be easy. Or at least he had thought it would be.


End file.
